


Hello From The Other Side

by fishfingersandjellybabies



Category: Batman (Comics)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-16
Updated: 2020-08-16
Packaged: 2021-03-06 04:41:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,497
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25927570
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fishfingersandjellybabies/pseuds/fishfingersandjellybabies
Summary: Dick returns from his life as Ric, and finds he has quite a few missed calls. From Damian, of all people.
Relationships: Dick Grayson & Damian Wayne
Comments: 15
Kudos: 321





	Hello From The Other Side

**Author's Note:**

> Based on ‘Hello’ by Adele. Vaguely surrounds current comics situations with Damian and/or Dick. Sorry this sucks hard knobs.

Dick found himself smiling as he walked in the manor’s front door.

He missed this place.

Or, well, rather, he would have. If he remembered it.

But when he _did_ remember it, oh boy, did he miss it.

“Hello?” He called, listening to his voice echo. He hoped someone was home, anyone. He…he hadn’t seen his family in years now, and his throat still tightened at the thought.

No one responded, and Dick found himself fighting back the feeling of disappointment. Of course no one was home, it was the middle of the afternoon. If they weren’t at their various jobs, they were probably sleeping off recent patrols, or maybe down in the cave. Or, you know, at their _own_ homes.

Only Bruce and Damian lived at the manor anymore, he was pretty sure. Maybe.

…He actually didn’t know.

Suddenly, there was the sound of someone clearing their throat from a room nearby, and Dick gravitated towards the noise.

He walked into the kitchen, and found Alfred, moving about the center island, opening and closing drawers and cabinets.

“Alfie?” Dick asked hopefully, smile widening on his face. “Long time no see.”

“Master Richard.” Alfred returned with a quick glance. “My boy, it is so good to see you. The _real_ you.”

“Yeah, I feel a lot better.” Dick laughed, rubbing at the side of his head, where that scar was hidden by his too-long hair. “…Thanks for coming to see me when I was...that other guy.” A pause. “I…do remember that still.”

“My pleasure, sir.” Alfred promised, continuing to shuffle through the drawers. “As if I’d ever give up on one of you children. Amnesia didn’t stop me the last time. Of course it wouldn’t this time.”

“And how awful that we live such lives where there _was_ a last time?” Dick lamented. He watched Alfred for a minute more as he moved from the island to the pantry. “…What are you looking for?”

“Something I need to give you.” Alfred grunted, pushing a bag of sugar out of the way on a shelf. “I meant to search for it prior to your arrival, but…” Alfred frowned. “Things came up.”

Dick didn’t like how he said that last sentence. He…he hadn’t seen anyone since he remembered, only talked to Bruce on the phone, said he was coming back. But Alfred said that as if…

He shook his head. He could deal with that later.

“Can I help you search?” Dick asked instead.

“No need, dear boy. It’s in this kitchen somewhere.” Alfred continued, standing on his tiptoes and reaching along the highest shelf. “I know it’s in here. It’s the only place none of your snooping siblings come regularly, so I knew they’d never think to search here, should they ever want it for some reason.”

“It?” Dick pushed. “What’s it-”

“Aha!” Alfred exclaimed. His hand wrapped around something the size of a thin deck of cards and he yanked it down excitedly. “Here it is.”

Alfred ran his hand along it, pushing off any dust. He turned towards Dick and Dick was almost taken aback by how much older the beloved man looked.

“For you, sir.” Alfred held it out like it was precious.

“It’s…” Dick frowned, confused, but took the device anyway. “Alfie, it’s just my old cell phone.” An airy laugh. “You didn’t have to keep this. I’m…kind of surprised Bruce asked you to, actually. Figured he would have cancelled the service, especially after how _Ric_ acted when he left town.”

“Oh, Master Bruce didn’t ask me to keep it. I did on my own.” Alfred explained, watching as Dick pressed the button on the side to turn the phone on. “It was a…hopeful just-in-case.”

“Oh yeah? And what does that mean?” Dick smirked. His phone’s home screen popped to life, a picture of Cass and Kori painting Jason and Roy’s toenails, but was instantly taken over by a wave of seemingly never-ending notifications.

“…It means we missed you, Dick.” Alfred smiled as he put a hand on Dick’s shoulder. “More than we could ever say.”

Dick found himself frowning as the notifications didn’t slow. By the icons, he could tell a lot of them were texts and voicemails, and in theory, that shouldn’t have been too much of a surprise. The surprise came from the fact that these calls were recent, not all of them from years ago, and that most of them, it appeared, were coming from Damian.

Damian who…knew exactly where he was.

“Alfred, what…?”

“I hid your phone when I noticed him calling, after Ric returned to Bludhaven.” Alfred whispered sadly. “Just…just in case you ever returned to us. So you could hear what he said.”

Dick felt his heart sink a little bit.

“And to be clear, I did not eavesdrop.” Alfred swore. “I do not know what any of the messages entail. But I’m sure they’re very…emotionally charged.”

Dick snorted a bitter laugh. “I’m sure that’s an understatement.”

“Indeed.” Alfred returned the laughter. “Now, if you don’t mind, I need to begin your welcome home meal.”

“Of course. I’ll get out of your way.” Dick smiled. “But just one more thing.”

Before Alfred could ask, Dick leaned forward, wrapping the old man in a tight embrace.

“Missed you, Alfie.” Dick murmured.

“Thank you for returning to me.” Alfred breathed back, returning the hug with an intense squeeze.

After their quiet, and far too quick, reunion, Dick bid him adieu, and headed upstairs. He went to his own bedroom, knowing that Alfred had already cleaned and dusted everything, and opened the door to the sweet smell of a burning candle on the nightstand.

He smiled at the scent and then flopped down onto his back on the mattress. He missed this bed. This room. This house.

This _life_.

He reopened his phone, and looked at the bright red notifications. Thousands of texts, hundreds of voicemails. Emails, he just…wasn’t even going to look at that number.

He hit the voicemails button first, Alfred’s words fresh in his mind. And sure enough, the list was just a constant repetition of Damian’s name, with a few others here and there, including his other siblings and hero friends.

None of the voicemails were very long. A minute, tops, in most cases. Fifteen to twenty seconds for the majority. So he went to the bottom, the very first voicemail on the list that belonged to Damian.

“…This is stupid.” The message started. Damian was speaking softly. “I’m…I’m sitting right next to you. In the hospital. You’re stable, but unconscious. The doctor keeps saying she doesn’t know if you’ll wake up.”

A ruffling, like he was shifting in a chair. “Well, you better, okay? You _better_ wake up. Or else.”

Another pause. In the background, Dick could hear the beeping of a heart monitor.

“…Todd suggested this. Leaving voicemails for when you do wake up. Something to laugh about when you’re all better. Or as a memento, so you don’t feel like you missed anything. Or something. I don’t know.” An annoyed huff, and the repetition of: “This is so stupid.”

Then click.

Dick blinked, and went to the next message, and the next. The first ten or so from Damian were all similar messages, all recorded when he apparently was sitting at Dick’s hospital bed. The only difference between them were that Damian sounded sadder and sadder each time. Less hopeful.

There was at least one a day, sometimes more but normally not. Then suddenly for almost a week, there was nothing, not from Damian at least. Then his name reappeared, and the message was not its typical fifteen seconds. It was a minute and a half.

“…You woke up.” Damian choked out, and instantly Dick knew he was crying. “You woke up and you don’t remember any of us.” His breath was heavy, and he heard the desperate, quiet meows of Alfred behind him, trying to get his attention. “And you don’t _want_ to remember any of us.”

Ten seconds of nothing but watery breathing. A gentle woof from Titus.

“Did someone tell you what I did, is that why? Did they tell you who I used to be?” Damian whispered. “Is that why you don’t want to know me anymore? You forgave my sins before, when we were partners. You remembered how heinous they actually were, didn’t you? And how stupid you were for forgiving me in the first place.”

Another long pause. Damian sniffed, and blew his nose.

“I…I should have been there, then this wouldn’t have happened.” Damian continued, almost like he forgot he was on the phone. “I would have seen the gunman. I would have pushed you out of the way. Father could have…done something.”

A heavy sigh.

“I would have killed him for looking at you. For _daring_ to try and hurt…” A loud gulp that sounded painful. “I don’t know why I’m doing this anymore. You’re not coming back. This is a waste of time.”

The line dropped.

Dick winced as he went back to the list. If that was how this started…he had a feeling it didn’t get any better.

Which made the next one a surprise. Back to a short length. But despite it being under Damian’s name, the first voice he heard was Jason’s.

“Dickie!” Jason slurred, and immediately Dick knew he was drunk. In the background he heard laughter that sounded like Tim, and Damian shouting Jason’s name in annoyance. “We miss you, dude. Big time. Also, why’d you never share your kid with us? He’s cute. And I’m…a little insulted.”

“Todd.” Damian’s voice was closer now, and there was shuffling. “Give me back the damn phone!”

“Okay, I’m a lot insulted. Also, who taught him to swear so much? I swear, Bruce blushed at the way your lil’ baby boy cursed out the Penguin the other night.”

“Todd!” Damian called again. Suddenly Jason grunted, and Damian’s voice was right there, almost as if he was on Jason’s back. “Give me-”

There was the sound of a scuffle, and halfhearted “Hey!” from Jason, and suddenly all sound disappeared.

“…Sorry, Grayson.” Damian muttered, sounding genuine. “Todd was…upset. About…well, you, I guess, and got himself drunk over it.”

A pause, followed by a quick scoff. “What am I-”

The line cut off.

That one made Dick smile a little bit. But also sigh. The amnesia…did a whole lot more damage than to just _his_ mind, it appeared.

He clicked the next.

“…I keep drawing you.” Damian whispered. “Cassandra brought it to my attention. I didn’t…didn’t realize.”

Dick could hear the scratch of a pencil in the background.

“She asked why, and I told her I didn’t know. Perhaps I just missed you. That seemed to satisfy her.” Damian hummed. He didn’t sound upset, like he had previously, but he also didn’t sound happy. He didn’t sound anything. “That’s not the real reason, though.” Stop. “I mean, it is. I _do_ miss you.” A bitter laugh. “I miss you terribly and I hate myself for it because I probably shouldn’t.” Dick frowned at that. “But it’s not why.”

A quick scribble, then the turning of a page.

“It’s because I think…I think I’ll forget.” Damian breathed. “I’ll forget what you look like.” A small grunt. “Or, at least, what you _looked_ like. When you were _you_.”

A few seconds of silence.

“You go by Ric, now. That’s disgusting.” Damian noted. “Barbara says you’re a cab driver now. Interesting choice. Very not you, that’s for sure.”

The clatter of pencils. A quiet meow from Alfred nearby.

“…But if it makes you happy, I guess.” Damian sighed. Dick absently wondered where Damian’s sketchbooks were, if anyone had seen them. If they still existed. “…I hope you’re happy, Grayson. Whatever you’re doing.”

The line clicked.

As he scrolled through the list, he wondered if Damian would show him the drawings he mentioned if he asked.

The next one he picked was from a few months later, and time stamped as two in the morning.

The first noise was the wind, a sound Dick knew well. Nothing like the howl of the breeze from on top of a skyscraper. The next was the flapping of a cape.

Damian’s voice was tinny, and clearly through his mask communicator, not a phone.

“…Father and I are fighting.” Damian said bluntly. “My team…my team doesn’t trust me. Not that they should, I suppose. Trust is for the weak. So, in theory, it makes them each stronger heroes.”

A bird fluttered by.

“I mean, I’m lying to them as well, so. They shouldn’t.” Damian reiterated. “I…”

He stopped again, and for a moment, the shuddering breath that echoed made Dick wonder if he was injured. If maybe he thought he was dying. It sounded like a confession.

“You’d be so disappointed in me, Grayson.” Damian sighed. “I…what I’m doing isn’t good. It’s…violent. And I’m hiding it. From the Titans, from Father. Not like Father cares where I am or what I’m doing anymore. I haven’t seen him in weeks.”

A few seconds of just Damian breathing.

“…I looked in the mirror the other day. For the first time in a while. It’s not like I was avoiding mirrors, I just…wasn’t thinking about them. But I did the other day and I…I don’t think I recognized myself.” Another flutter of wings and a light coo. Dick imagined the bird had landed on Damian’s hand. “I…didn’t really know who I was looking at. It took me a minute to realize I was looking at myself.”

The rustle of one of his belt pouches. The happy cooing of the bird again.

“…Something’s wrong with me.” Damian whispered, and he almost sounded terrified. “I…I’m trying my best. I’m trying to save people. I’m trying to be what people think I _should_ be, what Father _wants_ me to be, but…I feel like I’m drowning. Like I’m cracking. Like I’m about to shatter into a million pieces.”

Dick felt a lump in his throats at the words. This wasn’t good. Because normally, Damian only admitted something was wrong when it was too late to fix it. So how long did he feel this way? How long was he and Bruce really so estranged?

What was Damian doing that he was keeping so hidden?

“Drake says I’m still grieving you, and that I’m in the midst of some sort of…downward spiral. Then he said it was funny, because you were similar when I died.”

Dick could agree with that.

“But…you had your friends. You still had the family. I…” An angry huff. “You were the only person to ever care about me Grayson, and I have no one.”

The wind blew in the background again, and it sounded like it was wailing.

“I have no one.” Damian repeated softly. Then he snorted. “Maybe, somehow, this is your fault. Maybe without you, I really am a hopeless case. You were my conscious, so without you I am just the evil assassin who needs to be stopped, thrown in prison or eradicated.”

Another pause, and Dick heard the bird fly off.

“…I’m lost, Grayson. And I…I guess I’m scared.” Damian whispered. “Of Father’s true feelings for me, of the future…of myself.”

Another sigh, and suddenly Damian’s voice was full of tears.

“I’m just trying so hard, Grayson. I’m trying my best. But it’s still not good enough. I still can’t get Father to look at me. I still can’t save anyone. I…I don’t know what I’m doing. I don’t know what’s _happening_ to me.”

A moment, to let himself cry, and Dick’s heart broke with every beat listening to it.

“I hope you’re doing well without me. Without the family.” Damian breathed, trying to regain his composure. “Because I am not doing as well without you.”

Dick heard the phantom sound of a beep, the alert for another line calling.

“I miss you.” Damian whispered. “I miss you so much, Grayson. I hope you’re doing okay.”

The line clicked.

Dick glanced back at the metadata for the call. That was less than a year ago. Eight, ten months perhaps?

He hadn’t seen Damian since he returned. Hell, no one had even mentioned him. But no one said anything had happened either…

Dick swallowed that lump in his throat, went looking for more messages.

One was only six seconds.

“Jon went away for three weeks. He’s now seventeen years old, and going to live in the thirty-first century.” Damian explained. “Why do the people I care about keep changing? Keep leaving?”

Another even shorter one a few days later.

“Titus pooped in Drake’s room. I’m not cleaning it up. It’s what he deserves.”

There were a string of them, almost every other day for about three weeks. Each short, and none of them pertaining to Damian’s long, distressing message.

“It rained today, and I wore your sweatshirt outside. Sorry.”

“Father called me back to town to help with a case. He didn’t say four words to me the whole time I was here.”

“It’s…hard today, Grayson.”

“My animals miss you.”

“Todd misses you.”

“Gordon misses you today.”

“I think I saw Pennyworth crying over you in the kitchen this morning.”

“I had a dream about you. You were dead. Your ghost followed me around. I think I preferred it to our current situation.”

“I had a nightmare about you. You were a Talon sent to kill me. I should have let you.”

“…I miss you, Grayson. I don’t know what else to say.”

Dick’s heart was twisting. No one noticed Damian was making these calls beside Alfred? No one talked to him? He was just…left to deal with this alone?

After that three week period, there weren’t any for a month or two. Dick even checked for text messages, and there was none from Damian. He was surprised by that too, surprised Damian never texted him during his time away. Always put in the extra effort, extra time, to call. To let the phone ring, listen to his answering machine, and say what was one his mind.

He went back to the list of voicemails, and went in search of Damian’s next one. And he found it – right next to one from Tim a few minutes before it.

So he listened to Tim’s first.

“…It’s a mess here without you, Dick.” Tim said with a sigh. “Something’s going on with Damian and Bruce, and no one seems to know what it is. Hell, I don’t think they even know, honestly. But it’s tense and awful being here. Can’t help but think this – whatever _this is_ – wouldn’t have happened if you were still here.”

The computer dinged in the background, and Dick heard the chair shift as Tim leaned forward.

“Damian’s about to snap. No one can reach him.” Tim sounded concerned, and Dick was almost surprised by that. “He won’t _let_ anyone reach him. He’s reminding me of how he was when he first came here, and that’s scary. But I’m not you. No one is _you_ , and we can’t figure it out. We ask and he ignores the question. We offer support and he disappears.”

Another sigh.

“Bruce doesn’t even ask.”

Dick found himself wincing at that.

“…We miss you, Dick.” Tim mumbled. “But at least you’re safe down in Bludhaven, and away from all this shit.”

Tim ended the call.

Immediately, Dick went to Damian’s call, that he made only moments later.

“…I have to leave. I can’t do this anymore.” Damian whispered. “I can’t stay here. I can’t stay in this life. I can’t stay in this mantle.”

There was no sound behind him. Nothing. He obviously wasn’t in the cave, that’s where Tim clearly was. But was he in the house? Was he outside? Was he already gone?

“I…I’m sorry I let you down, Grayson. I’m sorry I’ve destroyed the name you, for some reason I still don’t understand, thought I deserved. But I won’t take Robin with me. I’ll leave it here. I won’t tarnish it anymore.” More silence. Dick couldn’t even hear Damian breathing. “…Do you think Father will even notice I’m gone? Do you think he’ll care?”

Dick waited in the quiet.

“Because I don’t.” Damian admitted. “But…maybe that’s alright. It’ll make it easier for me to do what I need to. No distractions.”

Suddenly, there was a small hitch in his breath, and Dick heard the tears instantly.

“I’ll miss him, despite it all. He is still my father. He still let me meet you.” Damian breathed. “But I need to do this. I _need_ to. And I don’t know if I’ll come back. Maybe if you do.”

A bitter laugh.

“But we all know that isn’t happening.” Damian let out a long exhale. “I’m sorry, Grayson. I’m sorry I couldn’t…be what you thought I could be. And I’m sorry…I didn’t appreciate you while you were here. I never thought losing you would be my undoing. Would put me on a path that would lead to something like this. I thought…I thought I’d be with you and the family forever. Now I’m escaping into the night with nothing but a backpack. I’m not even taking this phone. Don’t want to be tracked and all that.”

As Damian spoke, Dick glanced at the call’s info again. This wasn’t that long ago. Three months.

“Thank you for everything. I’m sorry I messed it all up. I still miss you. I…still _love_ you.” Damian sniffed. “I hope you and I cross paths again one day, even if you’re still Ric.”

Then…nothing. The call ended. Dick scrolled the list to find another one, but there was no more. No more calls from Damian’s phone. Not even anymore from the family. A few friends, a few doctor’s appointment reminders.

Dick sighed, dropping the phone onto his chest and closing his eyes. He knew he missed a lot. He knew he missed _lifetimes_.

But this…

The front door squeaked open. “We’re here!”

Despite it all, Dick found himself smiling. It was Tim.

He slid off his bed, leaving the phone behind, and jogged into and down the hall. But he found himself freezing at the landing.

Because it wasn’t just Tim. Damian was with him.

He was taller now, and full-on teenager _lanky_. His cheekbones were more pronounced, arms too long for the sweatshirt he wore. Already, Dick could see a few new scars he didn’t remember, even from this distance.

Dick frowned. The voicemail just said…?

Regardless, none of his confusion stopped him from all but flying down the stairs. Damian and Tim were chatting as they took off their shoes, so they didn’t see him coming, not until he engulfed Tim in his arms, and practically tackled him to the ground.

“Hey little brothers.” His voice was muffled against Tim’s shoulder.

Tim laughed, throwing his arms around Dick. “God, am I glad to see you.”

“Glad to be back.” He released Tim, but stared down at him. He looked tired. More tired than he normally did.

But he didn’t dwell on it, immediately turning to Damian and wrapping him up in his arms, lifting him and giving him a quick spin.

“Augh, Grayson!” Damian admonished, but laughed in the process, clinging to Dick’s neck. Even when Dick put him down, he didn’t release him, keeping his face hidden in Damian’s hair.

“Kiddo.” Dick whispered. “What’s new?”

Because should he outright say that he knew? Should he confront Damian – and Tim, really – right here and now? Or play dumb? Alfred said no one knew he kept the phone, after all.

“Everything.” Damian chuckled. “It has been a while, after all.” But Damian pulled back, and Dick’s heart swelled at the obvious reluctance to the movement. He felt no different, of course. “But a conversation for later. Not in the doorway. Has Pennyworth finished preparations?”

Like a snake, Damian slid away, practically running to the kitchen. A tactic to avoid conversation, Dick knew it well. He sighed, and glanced at Tim.

Tim was already watching him curiously. “…Do you know?”

“I know a little.” Dick admitted. “I…Alfred saved my phone. I got your voicemails. And his. I know he…left? He’s not Robin anymore?”

Tim shook his head. “He’s only here because I spent a week tracking him down. Bruce…didn’t even try to contact him to tell him you’re back. But I knew despite it all, he’d want to be here.”

“Does Bruce know he’ll be here tonight? For this?”

“No.” Tim mumbled. “And even when he sees him, Jay, Cass and I have already made a plan to keep the two as far away from each other as possible. Tonight’s about _you_ , not what’s going on with them.”

“Think they’ll tell me what’s going on? Later, after dinner?”

Tim shrugged. “You know how Bruce is. Damian…he already told me he doesn’t want to stay long, probably to avoid talking to Bruce. But he missed you like crazy, so I don’t see him trying to sneak away until you guys get to talk one on one. So…he might.”

Dick pursed his lips. “…A lot has changed, hasn’t it?”

Tim gave him a sour grin. “More than you’d ever believe.”

“…Well, I’ll tell you one thing that hasn’t.” Dick offered. He wrapped his arm around Tim’s shoulders, reeled him into his side. “Still love you like crazy, squirt.”

Tim smiled genuinely now, hooking his own arm around Dick’s waist and pushing him towards the kitchen. “You better, old man.”

Dick laughed, kissed Tim’s head. “Missed you.”

“Missed you more.” Tim countered as they reached the doorway. They stopped there, leaning against each other. “…But probably still not as much as _he_ did.”

Damian was awkwardly standing in front of Alfred as the old man looked him over, critiqued his lack of hair cut and skinniness. Alfred said something scolding and Damian laughed.

Dick inhaled and, without releasing Tim, walked over to him, once again tugging him into an embrace. An unspoken group hug.

Damian was still laughing. “Grayson, what on earth!”

“Just give me a minute, Damian.” Dick whispered, leaning his head between Tim and Damian’s. “Give me a minute.”

_A minute before everyone’s here. A minute before Bruce brings tension. A minute before I learn what really happened. A minute before you try to disappear back into the night again._

He didn’t say any of that, but Damian seemed to know. He always seemed to know.

“Okay.” He whispered, as Tim silently wrapped his free arm around Damian’s back too. Damian glanced at him, but Tim just kept his gaze lowered. It was not the night for him to share his emotions on the subject.

So Damian shifted to hold them both, too.

“…Okay, Grayson.”


End file.
